


Moments

by Fyre



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aziraphale and Crowley Through The Ages (Good Omens), Department of Backstory, Friendship, History
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-01
Updated: 2019-12-01
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:47:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,077
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21629347
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fyre/pseuds/Fyre
Summary: In time, someone who was supposed to be an enemy can become something like a friend.
Comments: 31
Kudos: 101
Collections: Good Omens Holiday Swap 2019





	Moments

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Diomede](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Diomede/gifts).



**581BC – Babylon**

“I thought it was you!”

Azirapale winced as the bath attendant poured another jug of cool water over his skin. He tilted his head, peering up at the man in front of him. Creature, he supposed, was more polite. “Hello, Crawly.”

The demon rocked back and forward sympathetically on the balls of his feet. “Looked like your miracle was wearing a bit thin at the end, there,” he said. “I mean, three of them _and_ you in the fire at once? That had to be some special dispensation nonsense.”

It _had_ been rather too close for comfort, but the orders were clear: protect the faithful and manifest accordingly. He’d done so, but the fire in the furnace was awfully hot and they were left standing in it for far longer than he’d anticipated. The three lads got out unscathed but Aziraphale was feeling as raw as a seared side of lamb.

The demon plopped down on the marble bench beside him. “You didn’t need to stay in there with them, y’know. Could’ve made an appearance then buggered off.”

Aziraphale managed a strained smile, tilting his head slowly from side to side. Every inch of his corporation was starting to pull tight, aching. “I had my job to do, Crawly. I don’t expect you to understand what that’s like.”

The demon gave him a look, then prodded his bright pink thigh.

“Ow!”

“Stand by what I said,” Crawly said with a sniff. “Turning yourself into a chargrill isn’t going to do anyone any good now, is it?”

“I had my orders,” Aziraphale said stiffly. The next pitcher of water was a blessed relief.

“Hm.” Crawly didn’t sound impressed.

Aziraphale swirled his feet in the water pooling around him, cooling the crisping sensation on his feet. The furnace was vast and the stone had been red-hot to the touch. “Dreadful behaviour,” he murmured. “Putting people in a furnace.” He glanced sidelong at the demon, who was splashing his feet cheerfully in the water. “Your idea?”

“Hey!” Crawly looked outright offended. “What kind of demon do you take me for?” He made a face. “Putting people in furnaces… bleh.” He shook his head. “Nah. They did that themselves. Do it a lot, y’know. There’s a bunch out west. They’ve got an oven for it. Big one. Sacrifices and things.”

Aziraphale lifted one dripping foot from the water, sighing in relief as the cooler air chilled it. “They seem to give any excuse for killing one another,” he said. “This one was punishment, those ones you mentioned for sacrifices.”

“First one was jealous,” Crawly said suddenly, very quiet.

“First one?”

The demon slanted a sidelong look at him. “Killing.”

“One of yours?”

Crawly winced. “Very loosely,” he said. “Sort of. Just told him sometimes, you really just need a good seared steak.” He scratched his neck awkwardly. “I didn’t think he’d go off and brain his brother with a rock, did I?”

“Oh.” Aziraphale looked down at his knees. “I didn’t know that.”

“Humans, eh?” The demon tried to smile, but it wasn’t very convincing. He got back to his feet, splashing through the puddles on the floor, then paused. “Here.” A snap of his fingers manifested a jar full of waxy paste in the bench beside Aziraphale. “It’ll help.”

Aziraphale picked it up gingerly. “What is it?”

The demon screwed up his face. “Better you don’t know,” he said, “but it works. Should stop you smelling like a rack of beef by dinner time.”

The angel cautiously sniffed at it. While not entirely pleasant, it wasn’t terrible. He looked up to thank the demon, but Crawly had already gone.

* * *

**3BC – Nazareth**

Crawly tilted her head, watching the spectacle in amusement.

There wasn’t much fun to be had in Judea at the moment, but sometimes, you just happened to be in the right place at the right time.

“What the Heaven are you doing?”

Aziraphale gave an alarmed squeak, looking up from the window. He was halfway through it, but hadn’t taken into account that he was a bit bigger around the middle than he was at the top. He stopped pushing against the walls with his hands and forced a smile. “Ah! Crawly! Hello! Lovely evening, isn’t it?”

The demon sauntered closer, grinning from ear to ear. “What are you up to, angel?”

“Me? Up to?” The angel’s cheeks flamed pink. “Nothing! Nothing at all! Just…” He glanced around wildly, then took a deep breath. “Just enjoying the evening air!”

“Mm. Hm.” Crawly leaned sideways to deliberately peer at the window. “Not… stuck in a window, by any chance?”

The angel glowered at him. “It’s not _funny_.”

Crawly’s grin widened. “Is a bit,” she said. “At least from where I’m standing.”

“Of course you would think so, you _fiend_ ,” Aziraphale said testily. He strained against the wall again. “I’m not here for you to laugh at.”

Crawly snickered. “You could’ve fooled me.” The angel gave her a wounded look and Crawly sighed and held out a hand. “Come on, then.”

The angel eyed her hand suspiciously. “What are you doing?”

“I’m…” Crawly flapped her other hand vaguely. “Making sure some poor sod of a human doesn’t get an eyeful of your arse first thing in the morning, that’s what I’m doing.” She waggled her fingers. “Now, do you want out or not?”

Aziraphale immediately grabbed her hand and the demon yanked, calling up a flicker of a miracle with her other hand. The window widened just enough and Aziraphale cascaded out, legs flailing, to crash to the ground. He rolled over, wincing, and groped for the unravelled tangle of his headdress.

“I can’t helping thinking you could have done that without dropping me,” he said and though his tone suggested he was trying to be indignant, it sounded more pouty than anything.

“Yeah,” Crawly said, pulling him to his feet. “But demon, eh?”

“True.” Aziraphale smoothed his robes and started winding his headdress back in place. “Lord, those windows are awfully small.”

The demon studied him. “What were you doing anyway? Climbing out a human’s window in the middle of the night isn’t very angelic, is it?” A thought hit her and her face lit up. “Angel! Were you…” She leaned closer and waggled her eyebrows. “ _Fornicating_?”

“No!” Aziraphale went purple in the moonlight. “Nothing of the sort! Must you be so… so vulgar?”

Crawly smirked at him. “Human? Bedroom? You looking all hot and bothered?”

“Absolutely not!” Aziraphale exclaimed in outrage. “If you must know, I was ordered to give him a message in a dream!”

“A dream?” Crawly frowned. “Since when can we go in dreams?”

The angel somehow managed to go even pinker.

Oh, it was always hilarious when the poor bugger got awkward.

“What did you _do_?” Crawly breathed. If it was enough to fluster him, it would probably be hilariously embarrassing.

“I… I sort of tacitly implied he might sort of be… dreaming… when he was very much awake.” He twisted his fingers together. “It got a bit awkward.”

“A bit?” Crawly echoed, delighted. “A bit _how_?”

The angel’s face creased up in a mess of indecision, his hands twisting and twisting, until he burst out with, “How the Hell was I meant to know he’d spotted me in the inn the other day? He _wouldn’t_ take me seriously, because he kept saying he was sure his cousin sold me a falafel!”

Crawly’s lips were twitching helplessly.

“I mean, he did!” Aziraphale continued, as if he had completely forgot Crawly was there, his inner diatribe pouring out. “And it _was_ a very good falafel, but I hardly imagine it’s the kind of thing that should appear in a divine message and he wouldn’t shut up about the damned falafels and I really – well, they ought not to have done it this way anyway!”

“Didn’t get your message through, then?” Crawly croaked out, trying not to snigger at the thought of a very determined human haranguing the angel. “Decided to jump out the window?”

“Er…” Aziraphale squirmed. “I… might have… manifested a bit to make him pay attention.”

“Manifested?” Crawly echoed, shaking with the force of repressed laughter. “How many eyes?”

Aziraphale fidgeted. “…all of them…”

Crawly covered her mouth with her veil to muffle her laughter. “Oh the poor bastard!”

“It wasn’t my fault!” The angel wailed. “If he would’ve just shut up about the falafel, I could’ve told him what I needed to about his wife!” His shoulders sagged. “I hope I didn’t go overboard. Humans are such… delicate little things.”

“Yeah,” Crawly said as consolingly as she could between laughs. “Always a bit of an embuggerance when their heads explode at the sight of you.”

Aziraphale’s eyes widened in alarm. “Can that _happen_?”

He looked so panicked that Crawly – for some reason she couldn’t quite put her finger on – took pity on him.

“Nah,” she said, waving a hand. “Might be considered a bit loopy for a while and probably’ll have some genuine weird dreams about you for a bit, but he’ll be fine.”

“Oh _good_ ,” Aziraphale sighed, clearly relieved. He glanced back up at the window. “I don’t suppose you could give me a little boost up so I could… well, you know. Look in on him. Just to be sure.”

Crawly snorted. “ _Fine_.” She crouched, cupping her hands and punted the angel up high enough to peek through the window. The angel wobbled in her grip, clutching at the window frame. “You do know you could just _walk_ through the wall if you wanted to,” she pointed out. “Or there’s this new-fangled invention called a ‘door’. Very high tech. Could try one of them.”

Funny, she thought, never realised that anyone could blush as far as their ankles.

“Oh,” came the meek voice from above. “Right. Yes.”

Crawly shook her head with a grin. The blessed angel was easily the most entertaining person he’d ever come across.

* * *

**79AD – Pompeii**

The ship was rolling violently, but Aziraphale couldn’t bring himself to step back from the rail.

It was the middle of the day. It should have been a world of blue skies and sunlight dappling the water, but instead, the sky was blotted out by thick, black clouds of ash and dust. The reverberations were still shaking the earth and the ripples were carrying up to the sea.

“Angel.”

Aziraphale didn’t turn. “I didn’t think you would be here.”

“Me either,” Crowley said, stepping alongside him. “I was just in town to encourage a lad to write some more graffiti about his best mate’s mum. Managed to jump on the boat just before it left the bay.”

They both grabbed at the rail as another explosion and slurry of dust and ash made the boat heave on the waves.

“You know they’re officially calling that kind of thing an Act of God now,” the demon said conversationally.

It wasn’t technically inaccurate, though Aziraphale did sometimes wonder if the Almighty didn’t unleash the odd disaster in the same way that a human picked at a spot, idly, distractedly scratching away at something and whoops, eruption. There didn’t seem to be any rhyme or reason to them, though he was hardly about to say that to the demon.

“Do you think any of them will survive?” he asked quietly.

“Yeaaaaah,” the demon said, almost sounding convincing. “S’only a bit of ash, isn’t it? They’ve managed that before.” He gave the angel a reassuring, if very awkward, pat on the shoulder. “C’mon. You’re starting to look a bit dusty yourself.” He jerked a thumb in the direction of the hold. “We should head down.”

Aziraphale stared out over the choppy blackened waves. “I think I’ll stay here,” he said. “I– Someone needs to bear witness.”

Crowley made a low, impatient sound. “No, they don’t.”

Aziraphale looked at him. “I do.”

Over the narrow frames of his eye-glasses, Crowley rolled his eyes. “Fine.” He folded his arms and leaned against the rail.

“You don’t have to stay, Crowley.”

“Course I don’t,” the demon grumbled.

Side by side, they watched as the sky fell. 

* * *

**1220AD – Bukhara**

The walls of the city couldn’t take much more.

It was awful, seeing the carnage and the flames flickering and dancing.

Aziraphale walked the perimeter, unseen, gazing out at the sprawling encampment of the horde. It had been there for almost two weeks already and the Khan had made it very clear he had no intention of leaving the city standing once he breached the walls.

“Oi!”

The angel looked around in confusion. There were a few guards on the walls, restless and fearfully watching, but none of them should have noticed him.

“Oi! Angel! Down here!”

Gingerly, Aziraphale leaned out between the crenulations and peered down at the ground below. There were fires burning, even there, and in the middle of them, a very familiar red-haired figure was waving frantically. Aziraphale gaped down.

“Crowley?” he called. “Is that you?”

“Who else would it?” Crowley yelled back. “Mind if I come up?”

“Why?” Aziraphale shouted back down.

“Bec–” The demon put his hands on his hips and made a face. The air shifted and suddenly, he was on the wall beside Aziraphale. “Because it’s easier than shouting myself hoarse trying to get your attention, that’s why.”

Aziraphale gave his clothing a critical look. Crowley was far too skinny for the armour of the horsemen. It hung on him, tied in place with extra cords to stop it falling loose. “If you’d waited a couple of days,” he said tartly, “I’m sure your friends would’ve let you in.”

Crowley groaned. “Don’t be like that, angel! You know how it is.”

Sadly, Aziraphale did. You went were you were told, you did your job, and you ensured it was finished.

In fact, there had been an incident, only a couple of years earlier when he had been the one riding with the Khan. It had been a rather unsettling affair, but he had even convinced the man to send diplomatic trade envoys to Khwarezm instead of pursuing his usual tactic of invasion.

It ought to have worked, but humans being humans, it had not gone at all as peacefully as intended. The envoys died and the Khan was… a tad put out.

Two years later, Bukhara – still part of the Khwarezm empire – was the latest city that he had decided to raze from the map.

“Why are you here, then?” he asked. “Come to gloat?”

Crowley looked offended. “Gloat? I never gloat!” He glanced around, as if checking for spies, which was absurd on a deserted stretch of wall. “Listen, here’s the thing – I think I can stop him from burning this place to the ground.”

That… was surprising.

“You… could?”

Crowley winced, swaying his hand from side-to-side. “Bit touch and go. You know how he is, yeah?”

“Mm.” Aziraphale nodded, glancing out at the glimmering torches and the shadowy humps of hundreds of thousands of tents. “What’s your plan?”

Crowley turned and pointed across the city. “That.”

Aziraphale frowned in confusion. Above the low-lying buildings of the city, the minaret of the Kalyan mosque jutted up like a finger pointing to the star-speckled sky, outlined by the thin moonlight. The patterns of coloured tiles circling it shimmered and shone, dozens of silver-tinted colours like tiny stars. “What?”

“He _loves_ it,” Crowley said. “Saw it from miles off and got himself all wound up. Don’t think he’s ever seen anything like it before.” He gave the angel a hopeful smile. “D’you think you can focus everything you’ve got left on it?”

“I-I don’t see how that would help!”

The demon ran a hand over his face. “Okay… okay, I’ve been with them a good bit of the way.” He paced in a circle. “Here’s the thing: he doesn’t like being crossed. He doesn’t like people being uppity. And it takes a lot to get him excited about something, especially a building. If you can make that the most _captivating_ thing he’s ever seen, maybe he won’t be all wholesale-slaughter for a change. Get the people to give in gracefully, give him something like _that_ to put him in a better mood, and there might be something of this place left when he leaves.”

“You make him sound like an angry magpie,” Aziraphale said with a weak smile.

“Magpies would be easier,” Crowley said darkly. “Trust me, angel, get them on his good side and it won’t be…” A shadow crossed his face. “The north is burned. All the cities. They’re _gone_. This one, maybe we can save _something_. If we have to use it as a focal point, we do. And it looks good for your lot, because a holy building survived – faith’ll get a bit of a boost, won’t it?”

The angel worried his lower lip, staring out across the city. A handful of miracles were all he had left, but if Crowley was right and the Khan’s wrath could be cooled off with a couple of well-placed ones, then surely, _surely_ , it was better than using them in vain attempts to save a scattered few people.

“It’s only a building,” he said uncertainly. “Are you sure it would be enough?”

“A tomb in a garden was enough for some,” the demon said. “Look, what do you have to lose? Either way, we both know he’s coming through those walls. D’you want to see this place turned to rubble and left for the crows? Or maybe, leave behind enough for them to keep going?” He leaned closer, the sway of his body making his armour rattle in the quiet of the night. “Don’t know about you, angel, but I could do with a win here.”

“You’re on the side that _will_ win,” Aziraphale pointed out.

“You know what I mean,” Crowley said. He pushed up his glasses and rubbed at his eyes. “You don’t– what they’ve done– I’ve seen some bloody awful stuff, angel. I wouldn’t mind… something that isn’t completely awful, just for once.”

He sounded so exhausted and that wasn’t like him.

“I’ll talk to the city leaders,” Aziraphale said carefully. “I can’t make any promises, but if it goes well, if I can… influence them enough, I’ll do what I can to the minaret.”

Crowley’s face broke into a relieved smile. “Perfect.”

Aziraphale smiled in return. It would be a pleasant change, he thought, to be able to offer some kind of respite to Crowley for once.

**Author's Note:**

>  **Historical notes** :
> 
> 581BC – Nebuchadnezzar's Furnace (Daniel - Ch. 3)  
> 3BC – Joseph’s Dream (Matthew – Ch. 1 v 20-23)  
> 79AD – The Eruption of Vesuvius  
> 1220AD – The Siege of Bukhara
> 
> I can't tell you how challenging it was for me to find historical events I know about that I haven't already written into [Crossing Paths](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19135411/navigate). But moar research :D I LOVE MOAR RESEARCH! And art! For a bonus extra challenge :)


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